


Psycho

by LovettOrNot



Series: Ceci n'est pas de la lèvre [2]
Category: K-pop, Red Velvet (K-pop Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Red Velvet MVs, Blood and Gore, Cheating, Disturbing Themes, Drug Use, Embedded Images, Family Issues, Gun Violence, Illegal Activities, M/M, Multi, Murder, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Revenge, Serial Killers, Stockholm Syndrome, Tags Contain Spoilers, Team as Family, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-02-20 10:10:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22015744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovettOrNot/pseuds/LovettOrNot
Summary: Peek A Boo/Bad Boy/Psycho MV AU.Red, the color of courage. Velvet, the fabric of nobility. Red, the color of his friend’s blood spilled on the pavement. Velvet, like being consumed by dissolving devoré. In order to get revenge on the group that ruined his life, Taehyung must trust the enigmatic Irene- the very leader of the group itself.
Relationships: Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V, Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V/Park Jimin, Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung | V/Park Jimin
Series: Ceci n'est pas de la lèvre [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/946413
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who happened to read the original sequel (Rookie) in the past, I felt that it lost the true essence of what I was going for in the series. Plus I had essentially written myself into a corner with characters that honestly didn’t need to be included- so here you go, a much more sensible take for a sequel.

**_November 31 st, 8PM_ **

Everything was blinding.

Chandeliers, sconces, LED screens on slot machines, jewelry, everything either produced or reflected a pale yellow light. 

Golden tiles polished to a mirror-like sheen stretched out before him.

His eyes found respite on dark figures making their way past poker tables. ‘Old Hollywood’, the dress code described itself- black and white clothing, preferable. Not many actually chose to follow it, but the few that did caught his eye. Surrounded by light and color, the illusion worked. For a moment, those socialites had him completely entranced.

Like a soulless 4AM film they captured everything- the too-perfect camera, the underlying grain and filth and most of all the superficiality they shielded themselves with.

For a time they were nothing short of prim and proper, airily walking from one polite conversation to another. They held each other together in fleeting, blissful moments simply because they thought everyone else cared. Their carefully crafted façade broke when just one person dropped the act.

He didn’t catch who it was, exactly. It didn’t really matter. Perhaps it was the stressed face at the poker table with too many lost chips. Maybe it was a many-ringed gentleman holding two people half his age like arm decorations. It could’ve been the sunken-eyed actress with five empty glasses near her.

Her hand strayed near a sprawling pyramid of champagne glasses. If an assistant hadn’t stopped her, all of those glasses would likely be countless shards on the floor. The golden liquid that glistened within still sickened him, though no longer because of the taste.

Urgency and training ensured that any distaste he held was gone. After all, he couldn’t hide behind the entrance forever. He passed through the archway that covered him with a wild smile and a confident walk. What made his stomach churn wasn’t alcohol, but the overpowering mix of perfumes and colognes- and the anxiety.

“Hey Valentin,” a brunette in a cocktail dress called from the side. “Looking for some company?”

At the mention of ‘Valentin’, eight other heads swiveled to look at him. It was an entourage, waiting near the doors to latch onto whichever big highroller they were interested in. Their lively conversation stopped as they gawked; they were looking for even the smallest indication that he was interested.

His purposeful gait paused for only a second. He flicked his head back and continued walking as the girls swarmed toward him.

The cloying scent of cherry perfumes clung onto him like the grabbing hands of their owners. Acrylic dug into his skin as girls rushed to get a piece of him. The brunette, the leader of the group, claimed his entire right arm for herself. Three of her girls crowded around his left arm, two satisfied themselves with his shoulders and the rest trailed behind enviously.

It was so strange Taehyung wanted to laugh.

Weeks of training hammered into him the practices, the rituals, the hows. An entourage was easy to maintain. A little bit of flirting here, a flash of money there, extra attention at the right moment. Suddenly each girl wanted to be the attention, which meant the most pleasing, which meant the most _useful._

He waited for the inevitable, for one of the girls to ask him if he’d like anything. A flirty joke from him arrived to too-loud laughter. When he spoke again, he said he only wanted to know where the host of the party was. The girls at the back saw an opportunity and quickly scurried off, dropping the number of girls from an impressive nine to only three.

Entourage faux-friendships broke near-instantly around a target and reformed just as quickly afterwards. In fact, that was why Taehyung had no qualms with using them as information gatherers. They came here knowing that they’d fight with each other for the smallest scrap of attention. Then, when he disappeared after, they’d blame each other for ‘scaring him off’ and go back to fishing for their next target.

And everyone acted as if that were a perfectly normal thing to do.

If any person had any idea of what his past truly was, they’d probably kick him out of their gilded delusion. At least, if they weren’t too busy indulging themselves to death. Through the haze of approval, tiredness, flattery, alcohol and plain lies, anybody could claim to be anybody.

The sole exception to that rule was the host, who he spotted even before his scouts returned to him. Out of all the sad, washed up stars in the farce, Joy stood out as one of the few with purpose. Her black and white gothic dress carved a swathe through the too-bright colors of her peers. The ribbon pinned to her equally dark hair finished her look of mystique.

In the house he thought that Joy was simply a vapid girl hiding behind a shield of money and those more capable of her, but now he knew he’d been played. There was no reason for her to reveal her true personality to two potential hazards. Given that three such hazards escaped, Joy was more than justified in her deception.

She scanned the crowd and, quick as a whip, turned her head to his position. With a practiced flourish, he grabbed one of the girls around him by the hip and pressed against her. Such a sight would be scandalous in any public setting, let alone a party. However, in the world of socialites, cheesy stunts and tacked-on flair was the normal. Joy averted her gaze at the sight of yet another cheap womanizer and made her way to the poker tables.

With that threat out of the way, he dismissed the girl with as much disgust as he actually had- she wasn’t anything compared to Jungkook or Jimin. He ignored the look of vulnerability, the kind that screamed ‘I’m reading too much into the situation and now I’m debating whether or not you like me’.

He headed out to the balcony, to the sea of lights that spread out before him. He was dying to be there instead, bathed in fuzzy neon that barely staved off the darkness. The streets called to his wild, true self. However, he anchored himself in the sight of the all-too familiar waiter.

Where long pale yellow locks were once parted, there sat waves of tar black hair. Even through the prosthetic makeup raising his cheekbones and widening his jaw, Taehyung remembered each curve that he traced with his fingertips time and time again. Bathed in the moonlight and cold wind, Jimin spoke serenely. “It’s cold tonight.”

“It’s getting warmer,” Taehyung replied.

Jimin’s hand darted to a pocket tucked well beneath many layers, pulling out a small black handgun. In less than a few seconds it’s tucked away in Taehyung’s own coat pocket hidden underneath its own swathes of cloth. They spent the few fleeting moments they had together shoulder to shoulder. They couldn’t risk more contact or any chance viewers might kick up a fuss about claiming waiters. Still, they cherished the time they had up until they separated.

Taehyung made a beeline for the alcohol table, wanting to make sure that everyone knew he was still playing along. The sluggish actress he spied earlier was exactly where she was when he first entered. He shrugged and ignored her as he grabbed a glass for himself and started downing it.

He nearly choked when Joy sidled near him out of nowhere.

He resisted every urge to splutter and forced his constricting throat to open. He had to be able to reply to Joy, otherwise he’d never be able to get close enough. He’d just about swallowed the last of his drink and formulated a coy greeting just to get into her good graces when-

“Hello Suyeon.”

As some (but clearly not all) the light flickered back into the eyes of someone who’d inevitably make the conversation about herself, Taehyung bailed. On the one hand it was a saving grace, because he wasn’t quite ready to engage with the most dangerous person there. On the other hand, he missed one of the rare chances of interacting with Joy outside of the poker table.

Still, he had other places to be. Specifically, the kitchen.

It was a good thing that the party was held at an underground casino, otherwise there’d be no chance any guest would be allowed anywhere near the kitchen. When the joint was operating illegally from the get-go, anyone who looked important could go wherever they wanted.

He walked past a harried chef yelling about some fancy dish he couldn’t even begin to pronounce. The cloying heat that made his tuxedo stick to his skin wasn’t as bad when the rich scent of bergamot and perfectly cooked meat made its way to him.

The errant thought of sneaking some food into his mouth crept into his mind more than once, but his next rendezvous was already staring straight at him. Jungkook had many hairstyles even just over the course of their relationship, but they were always very neat. With wild hair and black under-eyeliner, Jungkook carried the perfect look of a disgruntled guest chef. The little patches of makeup that made his cheeks puffier didn’t even seem necessary.

As soon as Taehyung wandered close enough, Jungkook gripped him harshly and looked around. When the other chefs decided that Jungkook was just trying to chase away an intruder, he dropped his voice to a low whisper. “If you’re in any trouble we’re bailing.”

“Have some faith in me.” Taehyung stopped himself short of saying ‘Kookie’. “Plan B’s secure. Where’s your part?”

Grumbling, Jungkook turned to two martini glasses. Bright pink and light green swirled as they were handed off to Taehyung. They were exactly the same in most respects, such as in taste and in smell. He had the mixologist/chemist to thank for that. Aside from color, it differed most importantly in poison level.

“Payload’s in green,” Jungkook said before swiftly rejoining the chefs in putting the finishing touches on meals.

With the final pieces of the puzzle falling into place, his nerves went into overdrive. Operations were not easy. That was a lesson hammered into him from his very first day of undercover journalism. Here, launching an actual assassination attempt, he figured there’d be a billion and one roadblocks. Aside from the odd appearance from Joy, nothing of note really happened.

It was suspicious.

He walked out of the kitchen with the drinks carefully, looking down at his feet. Through sheer force of will his legs stopped shaking, but in those seconds of intense concentration he wasn’t looking where he was going. With a soft _thud_ he collided with someone else, nearly spilling his entire Plan A into the carpeted floor.

Fortunately for him, his arm was steadied by a perfectly manicured hand. Unlike the catty girls whose nails dug into him like a piece of meat, none of the delicate French tips even touched his skin. The owner of the hand was draped in white lace and laden with real pearls. With sapphire contacts, any person dressed like this would seem like a fairy godmother.

Of course, only Irene would pick such a tauntingly pure outfit in this den of depravity. As if she weren’t one of the worst there. He wasn’t supposed to be speaking with her, not at this early stage of the plan.

“Where’s your bodyguard?” He said with disdain.

“The implication being that she’s here for me and not for the obvious target.” Irene carefully dodged not only the surface question, but made sure not to mention which member of Red Velvet she was referring to. Either Seulgi or Yeri were around to make his job harder and he didn’t even know which.

“Are you trying to get in my way?”

“You know the question to that better than anybody else.” Taehyung could practically see the eye roll hidden in Irene’s blank expression. He’s gotten far too familiar with the subtle cues in her face and inflection. It was frustrating at times, but he couldn’t deny it was necessary.

“Then let’s cut the shit. Where’s our oh-so-gracious host?”

“Settling down into one of those glamorous poker games where she robs the inebriated blind.” Irene turned away. “You’re going to join them.”

“Yeah, I am.” Taehyung waved her off dismissively. “I’m going to make her regret playing with me, one way or another.”

As he thought of his plans, he also painted an imaginary ‘X’ on Irene’s back.


	2. Chapter 2

_**2 months earlier...** _

A lone convertible tore down an empty road.

Great clouds of dust kicked up into the darkness as the roar of the engine cut through the silence of the night. Dark clouds overhead blocked any moonlight; it would rain soon. There were no street lights to pierce the darkness, only two headlights on full blast to guide Taehyung’s way. His eyes barely flickered to the dashboard when his GPS told him to make a right. He was far too busy speaking to the phone propped up next to it.

“Leave it to Irene to pick such a secluded area. There are barely any houses around.” He could clearly hear the suspicion in the grunt he got in response so he continued. “I’m heading there right now.”

“You WHAT?” Yoongi’s angered voice cut cleanly through the howling wind. “I knew I couldn’t hear you for a reason. Stop right where you are, I’m picking you up.”

Taehyung knew full well that if given half the chance, Yoongi would drag him back kicking and screaming. With the sound of Yoongi yelling for Hoseok to ‘get the damn keys’ ringing in his ears, Taehyung hung up. A smile spread over his face. Being dragged back was the entire point.

It wasn’t long before the GPS chimed and he hit the brakes. With the roof down, he felt totally exposed. Some part of his brain begged him to reconsider, saw the darkness that surrounded him and told him to keep driving. He couldn’t be harmed if he was tearing down the road.

But he couldn’t just leave. His heart wouldn’t let him. The only way to get revenge would be to follow the instructions to a T. Irene would accept nothing less. He’d spent hours before this memorizing, but he reached for his phone anyway.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/181813931@N07/47998158737/in/dateposted-public/)

Turning the car off was surprisingly easy. It was turning off his phone that made him hesitate. Every part of him knew this was dangerous, that he was compromising himself just to earn the graces of someone who ruined his life. It was only the toughest part of him, the survivor of the house, the one who stared Irene’s barrel down, that didn’t care. With one last gulp and a tap, he surrendered himself to the mercy of the night.

Panic thrummed through his core. A chill seeped through his bones, whether actual cold or wisps of fear he didn’t know. To his surprise, however, it didn’t get any worse. In fact, the nervous energy building up inside of him felt a lot like excitement. He’d spent so long blinded by lights- yellow in his captivity, stark white in the hospital with Jungkook, the weak, almost grey in Jimin’s house.

Before the house, before Jungkook, even before Bulletproof, the night was his friend. When the stench of alcohol in his own home became too much to bear, he slipped out of the window with a bag of spray paint. The deserted streets gave him solace as he made every wall he could find a canvas. He’d paint and paint until he heard the tell-tale rumble of an engine, the clicking of a door as it opened-

A clicking next to him got him ready to bolt, still half in the past. Brightness blinded him and he rushed to shield his eyes. His brain chased away images of policemen, ghosts of the past, before he took a look. There, wielding a flashlight, was the girl he’d last seen at Namjoon’s funeral.

“You made it.” Irene deadpanned before sticking her hand out toward him. “Your phone.”

The phone barely hit her palm before she turned away, leaving Taehyung to scramble to catch up. He hesitated for only a second when he realized he’d be leaving the convertible behind. He followed Irene’s brisk walk thinking that Yoongi would be more than fast enough to make sure it didn’t go anywhere.

Despite Irene’s apparent nonchalance, it was clear she was calculating every step of the way, only pointing the flashlight at the ground directly in front of her. Combined with her tendency to make sharp turns at almost random intervals, Taehyung had a hard time remembering where exactly they came from.

He was in the middle of retracing the steps back in his head when they came across a squat little building of crumbling brick. When Irene opened the door, it was clear that it was nothing but a glorified shelter for one big staircase that led downward. Its resemblance was nauseating to Taehyung, hand twitching to go to the back of his head to soothe the phantom pain. He ignored the urge and the unease in his stomach and continued following.

At the bottom lay a heavy iron door, an incredibly thick thing Irene had to take her time to push open. She switched off the flashlight as fluorescent white flooded the surrounding area. Once inside she waved Taehyung in and shut the door behind him with a screeching _thunk_. From all the locking mechanisms on the back of the damn thing, Taehyung was relieved she had no intention of using them.

When he turned forward again, he almost mistook his surroundings for a showroom. In fact, it was as if someone had bought those little faux-rooms right out of a furniture store and put them all together. There were no divisions, meaning there were stoves next to bookshelves, a couch next to a dining room table and- pipes. When he saw the multitude of pipes running all over the walls and disappearing into vents, he figured it out instantly.

It was a bunker.

Unlike some of the sorry excuses for bunkers he’s seen over the years, this wasn’t a hastily patched basement. It didn’t even seem to be a refurbished bunker from an old war. Everything, even down to the smell of paint, screamed _new_. If he was led here by any other Red Velvet member he’d be expecting the apocalypse. Given that this was Irene, however, he had no idea what to think.

Speaking of Irene, now that they were in the light he could actually see her. Now that several months had passed her red-grey dye faded back into her normal black hair. It was as long as ever, cascading to the middle of her back.

In fact, her entire outfit was black. From the bow on her head to the fishnet stockings and black boots, it was pitch black. Her dress barely came down over her thighs, leaving most of her legs on display. Even someone who wasn't particularly interested in women like him had to admit she was eye-catching.

Irene moved past him quickly, to the dining room table, taking a seat at the head. “Typical,” Taehyung muttered to himself before taking the seat on the opposite end. He still didn’t trust her enough to sit right by her. “Now what did you bring me all the way out here for?”

Irene made a point to ignore his question, instead pulling out a purse from underneath the table. Beige, black, green and red- Gucci. He’d seen it online before. The twinkle in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed, as Irene’s tight lips quirked up just a little. Almost teasingly, she took a tiny notebook out of it and stored the bag away from Taehyung’s interested gaze.

“Kim Taehyung. Age 23. Dislikes alcohol.” Irene read from the rabbit-emblazoned notebook. “Ran away from home. Petty theft, multiple counts of vandalism, trespassing.”

As Irene went down the list of painful memories Taehyung stiffened all the more, until he was sat there doing all he could to control the anger. His voice shook with rage. “That was years ago.”

“Why’d you run away?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Would you like a beer?”

Taehyung slammed his hands on the table and stood up, shaking from head to toe. He couldn’t stand to look at Irene, but he knew. Those cold eyes, devoid of all pity, were taking in as much information as possible. If he reacted now, it was proving to Irene that his past was another weakness to exploit.

Irene leaned forward just a little bit more. “Were you trying to kill him, that night?”

Tears. Bitter, painful tears finally spilled from his eyes. He wasn’t supposed to cry anymore. What would Jungkook and Jimin think of him? He knew what his father would think. That he was absolutely worthless. A ragged breath escaped him. “Yes.”

He braced himself for the question that everyone always asked. ‘Why didn’t you?’ Everyone who was at Bulletproof at the time- Namjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok had all slipped that question by him. And every single one of them changed afterward.

Namjoon became even more protective of him. Yoongi avoided bringing up drinking around him. Hoseok rushed to his side whenever he was upset. He appreciated it, he really did, but it was _suffocating_. He missed the old days before Bulletproof when he was allowed to go anywhere.

But those old days passed forever with Namjoon. 

Irene’s mouth settled into a slight frown and Taehyung braced for impact. Instead, what he got was-

“Now for the matter at hand.”

He sputtered and shook his head. “What? What do you mean the matter at hand?”

“What I called you here for. Our previous conversation has nothing to do with it.”

His fist made contact with the table before he even noticed, his anger slipping through the shock. “What do you mean previous conversation? What was the fucking point then!?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t want to talk about it.”

Taehyung’s shoulders slumped. Irene knew what happened and still refused to ask. He dropped back into his seat, bewildered. “I- I… yes. Okay. Just continue.”

His downturned eyes didn’t catch Irene’s brief smile. She tucked the notebook back into her bag, only to produce another one, emblazoned with a butterfly. She slid the notebook toward him with uncanny accuracy, with it stopping just short of the table’s edge.

Taehyung watched it warily before sighing and picking it up. Opening it, he was greeted with big block letters- ‘HEO VALENTIN’. The next page was nothing but a bullet list biography. Birth date (different, but the same age as Taehyung), birth place (Monaco), likes (some fancy drink he couldn’t even begin to pronounce), just bits and pieces of information Taehyung had no idea what to do with.

“Alright. What is this?”

“The identity you’ll be assuming for the coming months.”

He snapped the notebook shut, entirely unimpressed. It sounded exactly like one of those two-bit movies for children. “Does it turn out I have a twin that just happens to be someone incredibly important? Let me guess. He’s royal, too?”

“I wouldn’t go so far as twin.” Irene answered blankly. “And nobility is highly regulated. He’s only a CEO.”

“So he’s okay with me ‘assuming’ his identity?” Taehyung bristled. His entire job as a covert journalist was centered on shedding his identity, but he never tried to be another living person. Identities were the people themselves- even thinking about Valentin left a sour taste in his mouth.

“He’s dead. Along with his parents.”

The sour taste evolved into something like bile. He knew Irene had an extreme lack of morality in order to take part in torture. Every time Jungkook or Jimin woke up screaming was a testament to that. But she took it even further- she wanted to desecrate the dead.

He stood up without a word. He didn’t even try to hide the disappointment. The anger which flared up in him so easily just moments ago had been replaced with apathy. He had a chance to take revenge on her- but what was the point? He laid a hand on the cold steel, ready to pull it open.

“If it’s any consolation, the surviving members of his family were the ones who approached us.”

It was right there in front of him. Freedom, escape from this nonsensical world where families asked for members to be replaced. He didn’t even really want to ask for his phone back. He just wanted to go outside, get his ear chewed off by Yoongi and see Jimin and Jungkook again, perfectly safe.

But then the nightmares would return, with Namjoon having never been avenged.

“…Okay. I’ll bite.” He turned away from the door but stood his ground. “Explain.”

“Valentin was known to be a popular figure if not particularly capable of economic leadership.” Irene spoke with the certainty of personal experience. Given that she had leadership over corporate titan Joy, connections to other economic elite were almost guaranteed. “If news were to spread about the untimely death of three members of the family, even the remaining family members would not be able to recoup.”

“So basically we pretend he never died? And you’re getting _me_ to play that role? Wouldn’t about a billion people notice?”

“That would be true if we were attempting to pass you off to the public of Monaco. As you’ve noticed, you’re in Korea at the moment. Valentin will attend the latest of many parties. He simply won’t be coming back to Monaco afterward.”

When she put it like that, it didn’t sound half as bad. Still, Taehyung had seen enough of other paid-off sorry excuses for news writers. It was easy to twist moral crises into pretty packages if worded cleverly enough. It was his duty to search for the real truth.

“Connect me with his family.”

“I don’t have the Heo family constantly on the line-”

Taehyung barked out a sharp laugh. “Not normally. But someone as prepared as you would have them available during the only time you knew I’d be around.”

Irene fixed him her usual stare, which he matched with his own triumphant one. Eventually, right as he blinked, Irene made her move. She slid open a panel above and behind her chair, revealing a large screen. She took something out beneath the table and busied herself with it. Before Taehyung could ask, the screen blinked to life.

At first there were only three large dots, the ones plastered on loading screens. The dots bounced in regular intervals, lulling Taehyung into slow waiting mood. Just as he expected another bounce, he was suddenly staring into the reddened eyes of two people- Korean, with auburn blond hair.

Behind them Taehyung could see the ocean, waves crashing gently onto themselves or the yellow sand. At first he thought they just answered on the beach itself, but as the camera shifted he saw marble flooring. They were in a seaside villa, the kind that a normal person could only dream of. And hey- he was a normal person too. He'd love to have that kind of house near the sea.

The people were both dressed in red, although it was hard to identify what they were wearing exactly. The view showed only up to their shoulders. If Taehyung had to hazard a guess, the girl was wearing a red blouse or dress and the guy was wearing a red jacket over a white shirt. He also had a red cap sat squarely on his head.

From their age it was likely they were Valentin’s siblings. The two themselves were very clearly related, the taller brother peering from behind large glasses while his puffy-cheeked sister leaned closer. Then, without warning, she started laughing.

Peals of laughter rang shrilly through the cold bunker. Taehyung simply didn’t know what to make of it, but when he noticed the brother’s apprehension it was clear even he didn’t know.

“He looks a lot like Val, Irene.” The sister began, wiping at her now-wet eyes.

“If you would like for us to renegotiate our terms for assuming him into your family, then we can take the opportunity now to do so.” Irene ignored Taehyung’s death glare.

The brother shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. It’s… only difficult seeing that kind of resemblance on a stranger’s body.” Taehyung’s discomfort at being treated like an object in the conversation showed through in his face and posture. The brother noticed and hastily added a “No offense.”

“None taken. But look, I have a really important question to ask.” Taehyung didn’t want to take away the time the two had from grieving. “Are you _absolutely_ sure you’d like me to take on the role of your brother?”

The siblings looked as if they were in great discomfort, which in turn put a grimace on Taehyung. If they weren’t sure about this, he could never in good conscience accept this deal. Even if it was the only way to get his revenge. Taehyung shook his head.

“I don’t know what you’re really looking to get out of this.” Taehyung had no idea where he was even going with that, but he was a journalist, damnit. He’d spin words while he was talking. “I have absolutely no intention of becoming a replacement for Valentin. If you’re looking for a new family member, I’ll be taking my leave. But-”

“If you would like to keep Valentin alive, then you can trust him.” Irene finished, albeit with a completely different tangent. “Truths are truths because they are observed. We are the only observers to Valentin’s death. If we all agree that Valentin is still alive, then he is. Your lives and your company will go on as if nothing had changed. That is true magic.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes at all that pseudo-philosophical and occult babbling, but it seemed to bring great comfort to the siblings. Once they pulled themselves together and came to a single conclusion, they seemed like true company leaders. Even before that, they seemed like siblings in shared solidarity. The sight was enough to make Taehyung smile.

“We’re sure now.” The siblings said, slightly out of sync with each other. They chuckled at the mishap before the brother wrapped everything up. “You have our full permission to carry on Valentin’s existence. You have our sincerest gratitude, mister…”

Irene didn’t even tell them his name? Geez. “It’s Taehyung. And your names?”

“It’s probably in our best interests if you don’t know everything.” The sister said. Made sense. If he was acting as Valentin it wouldn’t be good to put unnecessary attention to any actual surviving members of the Heo family. “But you can call us… Hyuk and Hyun.”

“Well, Hyuk and Hyun, it was nice meeting you.”

The feed stopped there, with Irene already sliding the panel closed once more. Taehyung thought that enlightening conversation would be the very end of it. He already had the notebook, he’d just have to study it until some arbitrary date when Irene would drag him out to some socialite event. No biggie.

The only thing was, when he went back over to the table to grab the notebook, Irene gestured for him to take a seat again. He… wasn’t going to like this, wasn’t he? Oh well. He already promised Hyuk and Hyun that he’d continue the legacy of Valentin. Irene was probably just going to give him some further details.

“Now, regarding your living arrangements-”

“You never said anything about that.”

“This is our first meeting in months.”

Taehyung tried to rebut but quickly found himself biting his tongue. She got him there. He literally only just caught wind of this scheme. Hell, even with his delaying he still agreed to it in the matter of minutes.

Irene continued. “Let’s say Valentin attends the party with no news of his arrival beforehand. Every single peer of his would hound him endlessly with the same question. Why did you not tell us, Valentin?”

The logic was hard to argue against. This mythical image of Valentin that was thrust upon him seemed to be an avid socialite who built popularity by being vocal. If the normally very chatty Valentin showed up suddenly, the others would know something was up. Even if he was convincing enough as Valentin, to have people hanging off his arm the entire night would just be a disaster waiting to happen.

“Fine. I get your point. But you already know what my living situation is like.”

“You’re referring to your frequent nighttime visits to-”

“Yes!” His face burned brightly. No matter which name she would’ve finished with, it would’ve been true. He just… had a duty to both of them. Who else would hold them when their screams pierced the night? It was certainly better than sleeping. He wasn’t exempt from the nightmares either.

“As Valentin you’ll be staying in the penthouse suite of the Belbet Hotel. While arrangements for the other two can easily be arranged, there aren’t any identities that can be assumed from the recently deceased.”

He shook his head. “I’m not asking for them to take on identities from others.” He wasn’t really the one in charge of creating fake identities. That was more in the realm of either Namjoon or Hoseok. However, they never went the extra mile to create forged credentials. Irene, on the other hand…

“You’re going to create completely original identities for them.”

“That’s… achievable.” Irene muttered to herself for a good minute before nodding. “Expect that all three of you will be picked up within the week. I recommend that you notify them properly.”

“You mean so that they don’t freak out and think they’re kidnapped. Okay, yes, I get it.” He had to go. Yoongi and Hoseok were probably near his car if they hadn’t discovered it already. He didn’t want to give Yoongi extra reason to bite his head off. “Are we done here?”

Irene nodded. Taehyung was about to pick up the notebook and leave when he realized he’d accidentally opened it to the last page. On it was a picture of Valentin- they weren’t kidding about the resemblance. His eyes were a little bit bigger, his nose was less pronounced and his cheeks were less defined, but otherwise he was looking at himself with white hair.

They looked similar, and yet they couldn't be more different. Despite having never met, Taehyung had immense respect for Valentin. His almost-twin forged a path just like he did. It just so happened that Valentin was a little bit more conventionally successful.

Taehyung tucked the notebook into his pocket as Irene slid his phone over to him. He was about halfway through dialing Yoongi’s number when Irene gave her very last piece of information.

“By the way, the host of the party is Joy.”


	3. Chapter 3

The trip back to his car was silent and yet unbearably noisy.

At some point during the rough hour he spent in the bunker, the nighttime insects emerged. Their constant buzzing rang through his head as much as his chaotic thoughts did. He was prepared to brave any harm to achieve his goals. However, he brought the two closest to him in the path of danger to sate some selfish want to see both of them.

Each snap of a twig underneath his foot reminded him of Jungkook’s sharp remarks. Critical, precise and always, always right. Each leaf that brushed his arm when he strayed too close to the trees felt like Jimin’s desperate touches, telling him wordlessly to reconsider, to think of a different plan.

When the thoughts became too overwhelming he stopped in place and held his head. His temples throbbed with a fury. Even closed, his eyes burned- he needed sleep soon. Or coffee. There was light glaring at him. From the sun? No, it was too white.

He was in the middle of rubbing his eyes when he felt a hand on his arm. The pain in his head exploded when fight or flight kicked in, leaving him with nothing but pure survival instinct. He wrenched his arm away with all the strength given to him by panic. He stepped backwards, trying to clear his vision to see the threat. They were still intensely blurry, but he forced himself to breathe when he realized it was just Hoseok and Yoongi.

Yoongi was the closer of the two, meaning he was probably the one who grabbed him. With the arrival of the cold months he’d taken to wearing a teal jacket and matching gloves, but neither was on him. In fact, Yoongi was only wearing his tank-top, shoulders visibly shaking. He really dropped everything just to get here. Whether it was because of the guilt or Yoongi’s daunting gaze, Taehyung allowed himself to be dragged away by Yoongi’s iron grip.

Hoseok had been behind Yoongi the entire time, cutting through the darkness with a flashlight. His green sweater offered better protection from the night air, but his normal attitude of overflowing happiness had been muted to simple cheerfulness. Hoseok was a man of many words, so there was equal value in his purposeful silence. Given Yoongi’s less than stellar mood, Taehyung was glad for the lack of words.

When he caught sight of his convertible, Taehyung stepped toward it, only for his arm and the rest of him to be yanked back. His confusion soon dissipated when Yoongi made strides to the car he and Hoseok arrived in, their black minivan. Taehyung watched as Hoseok got into the convertible, silently wishing that he’d been able to go with Hoseok instead.

He couldn’t stare for long, however, as Yoongi was already sliding into the driver’s seat of the minivan. While he was doing this Yoongi was buckling up with excessive force, nearly ripping out his seatbelt while buckling it. By the time Taehyung was in and fumbling with the seatbelt, Yoongi was already strapped in and ready to go.

Taehyung expected choice words, insults, maybe even Yoongi getting so disappointed that he’d just reach over and do it for him. Those thoughts worsened his headache and made it even harder to see. Still, Yoongi didn’t do anything. Taehyung had just gotten the buckle in when he felt the engine thrum to life beneath him.

He looked over at Yoongi in surprise, but they were already moving. They were tailing Hoseok, who kept everything at a brisk pace. Red numbers, 03:12, blinked at Taehyung from the dashboard. At any point Hoseok could tear down the streets and they’d reach the city in record time. The fact that he didn’t implied he expected something to happen- something like a conversation.

However, as the minutes dragged on, Yoongi didn’t seem to have the energy to start speaking, let alone scold Taehyung. His normally smoky eyes were darkened further by slight bags. Those were nothing to Taehyung, who was constantly sleep deprived. They were even less to Jungkook, who already had aegyo sal anyway.

If there was any Bulletproof member whose sleep rhythm was more accurate than a clock, however, it was Yoongi. He was the first one out of the doors on any given working day, sans the times Taehyung was kicked out for really bad sleep deprivation. He was also the source of frequent grumbling around midnight when work hours were extended- something Taehyung got to see firsthand.

As far as official partners went, Taehyung had three. His beloved Kookie was still his mainstay partner, but for much of the pre-Kookie times he’d been paired up with Namjoon. However, Namjoon was saddled with an endless web of connections and when higher priority business called, he answered. In those periods Yoongi was called to lead him, both as a hyung and senior.

Over his lifespan he’d met many people he’d describe as brick walls. Yoongi went beyond that. If other people were brick, Yoongi was carved straight out of ice. Taehyung had been too intimidated by the chilly exterior to really understand him, despite Namjoon and Hoseok telling him there was nothing to be afraid of. He didn’t believe them until one hot summer afternoon. Much like the present, he sat in the passenger seat. That time he watched with amusement as Yoongi turned the glovebox inside out trying to find a map.

Of course, Yoongi wasn’t stewing in raw anger, but his brow had furrowed the exact same way. He’d been annoyed at that time, opening and closing the compartment as if that’d make the map magically appear. When Taehyung pointed out that the map was at his feet, he scowled and pretended he’d never looked for it before driving off.

“Just like old times.” The words slipped out of Taehyung’s mouth before he’d even realized. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the happy past.

“Yeah?” Yoongi snapped, grip tightening even harder around the steering wheel. His already pale skin whitened like snow around his taut knuckles. “When you used to run off on your own? Yeah, I know. I had to clean up after you back then too.”

It wouldn’t be accurate to say that the good memories shattered then. It was like they fragmented, still the same highlights, but in between those, in the jagged cracks, there were the ugly parts. At their core they were very different people- and it showed in their plans, in their lack of communication and especially in their arguments.

“I thought you outgrew this, Taehyung. When you did that pizza thing-” Yoongi suddenly cleared his throat. “After that last incident, none of us thought you’d go alone again.”

“That time was different. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.”

Yoongi breathed a heavy sigh. “And you knew now?”

“Not really, I guess.” He crossed his arms. “But I haven’t been kidnapped this time around.”

Yoongi opened his mouth to reply but instead shook his head. Taehyung rolled his eyes and stared out the window. Watching the hills roll by gave him a worthwhile distraction, at least for a little while. But no matter how many times he told himself to leave it there, make room for apology later when he was in a better mood, he had to say something.

“…She was more help than you’ve been,” he muttered.

“I heard that. So I’m worse than a murderer now? Thanks a lot.”

“Maybe it’s because you won’t stop treating me like a kid!”

The air was split with the screech of tires. Taehyung lurched forward, seatbelt digging into his ribs. When his head hit the rest, his head practically screeched in agony. He glared at Yoongi, who still had his foot pressed firmly on the brakes.

The years that they spent together were swallowed by the intense bitterness stirring within Taehyung. He knew that Yoongi was trying to keep it together, but that faux-calmness was getting irritating. It reminded him far too much of Irene, who barely reacted to anything, who killed Namjoon without any expression.

“I’m not trying to treat you like a child.” Yoongi’s voice was still firm, but much softer. “You just… risk your life without needing to.”

Taehyung felt as tense as a spring, ready to jump, scream, something, _anything_ just to make the conversation stop. “If you think that I’m just going to let those killers go-”

“I’m not talking about that!” Yoongi’s composure finally cracked as he buried his face in his hands. “I was _shot_ , Taehyung. I can’t even eat without being reminded of it. Don’t you think I’m entitled to being angry too?” Yoongi’s hands came off, glistening from newly shed tears. “You keep acting like you’re the only person who ever cared for Namjoon and I get so fucking _tired_ of it.”

Taehyung could only shrink back into his seat. “That’s not true,” he said with immediate regret.

“Unless it’s about him or Red Velvet, you don’t talk to us anymore!” Yoongi hiccupped as he finally turned to look at Taehyung. The barest hints of yellow from the rising sun scattered over his splotchy red cheeks. “Do you know how scared we get for you? You disappear for days on end and when you come back you say you were looking for leads! What the fuck are we supposed to do with that, Taehyung?”

Each word shred through Taehyung and collected in the pit of his stomach, the weight of his own guilt crushing the air out of him. All this time he’d been plotting revenge, checking security details of buildings, even keeping an eye on Yeri and Wendy’s court proceedings. When he wasn’t, he was making up excuses to check up on Jimin when he could’ve just told them he was visiting.

Wasn’t that kind of callousness common in psychopaths? Anger and anxiety had gripped him earlier, but he’d directed all of that to Yoongi- completely unfairly. Now it was snaking around him, nearly constricting him into silence. But he had to speak. He owed it to his hyung.

“I’m sorry.” Taehyung failed to convince even himself with that. “I’ve been a massive idiot this entire time.” That was more like it. “I didn’t mean to make you and Hoseok worry. I just- I get so angry when I remember what happened. And that’s all the time. I see Namjoon everywhere. I see Jungkook and Jimin every day. Whenever I’m doing nothing I see myself back in that basement.”

Throughout his stay in the house, he was treated as less than an individual. As dehumanizing as that was, it wouldn’t have been nearly as bad if they didn’t restrict his actions. Even now he could still feel the chain-links digging into his wrists. The wet cloth over his face. The feeling of being a prisoner within his own body. The lack of control was etched so deeply into his brain that it had nearly consumed him.

During those times, he couldn’t do anything. And it haunted him.

“I hate doing nothing when I can,” he continued. “That’s why I… jump at chances. When you’re stuck in a horrible situation for the longest time without any hope, you take that leap of faith without thinking. No… you’re thinking that even death would be a small price to pay for salvation.”

“I can’t say I fully understand.” Yoongi always was the more careful of the two of them, especially now that Taehyung placed all of his trust in Irene. But it was honest, and it was exactly what they needed at the moment. Not honeyed lies. “But if you really have to take that leap, I’ll be right there with you.”

Suddenly, Jungkook’s voice cut through the emotional air. It was a silly soundclip he’d recorded to get closer to Kookie during the initial recovery period. It was Jungkook, voice dripping with embarrassment, telling him to answer the phone.

Taehyung saw Hoseok stopped, almost out of sight with how far down the road he was. He didn’t have to check to know that it was Hoseok calling. Their conversation time was nearly up. Even if the tension had disappeared, Taehyung still had to ask one final question.

“So you want to help me get revenge?”

“I’ve been saying that the entire time.”

Taehyung leaned forward, spreading his arms wide. Yoongi was stiff the entire way through, but the fact that their arms were around each other was enough. Their hug lasted only a few seconds, far shorter than any normal hug, but it was still powerful. Yoongi just wasn’t the type for skinship, even around Hoseok.

With the oppressive air finally gone, Taehyung slid the phone out of his pocket and answered on speaker.

“Yo. We just had a serious conversation.”

“Aww. Do you two want hugs?”

“Definitely not,” they both said in unison. It was entirely unintentional, that much was sure when they gawked at each other. Someone started snickering- neither was sure who actually did it first. It didn’t matter, really, not when both of them started laughing their hearts out together. The glory days of their old partnership came back to them with honest laughter and the light of the rising sun.

Shortly after that he fell asleep, making the rest of the trip go by in a second. His eyes had barely closed when Yoongi was shaking him awake, in front of his apartment. He gave one last ‘thanks’ to Yoongi and made sure Hoseok parked the convertible correctly before waving them goodbye.

Once they were gone he ascended the stairs, some remaining wisps of apprehension coming back to him. The nap in Yoongi’s car had given him some clarity, mostly because his head wasn’t throbbing as much. He didn’t have to worry about every minute detail, but he was right to hesitate when it came to Jungkook.

By all means Jungkook would be capable of it. He was one of the more intrepid members of Bulletproof, having gone after the Red Velvet story first. But it was that very same group that knocked him into indefinite hiatus while he recovered. Jungkook didn’t particularly like being a market researcher- he told Taehyung twice a week. It carried less than half of the danger of anything related to Red Velvet, however.

When Taehyung reached the door of his apartment, he tried the knob- unlocked. Kookie must have come home already. He could feel the familiar butterflies gathering in his stomach. People had many ways of dealing with anxiety. Taehyung’s was to charge in guns blazing. He opened the door without a second thought, tossing in a “I’m home!”

However, the smiling face that greeted him wasn’t Jungkook’s at all.

It was Jimin, lying on the bed, swathed in a massive white sweater. Supple skin brought Taehyung’s attention downwards, firmly muscled legs laid bare for him. His heart rate jumped dangerously high at the implication; Jimin almost always wore pants, after all.

When Jimin moved, the muscles of his legs flexed and became more defined. Years upon years of labor must have sculpted those to masculine perfection but left his face untouched. His arms came up as he stretched them, dragging the sweater up with them. Taehyung swallowed dryly. Jimin wasn’t bare at all, he was just wearing black shorts of a sinful shortness.

Jimin, the little shit, giggled. “Hi.”

After all the talking Taehyung just did with Yoongi, he didn’t want to speak anymore. He didn’t even want to think about Irene or Red Velvet. If Jimin had gone out of his way to make a surprise for him, he sure as hell wasn’t going to spoil it with bad memories. He’d break the news on his own terms- not when he was trying to fight down the blush on his face.

Climbing onto the bed his heart continued to beat faster and faster. It wasn’t really nervousness as much as unbridled excitement. He had time to worry about how Jimin got in later. Then and there he had Jimin in front of him and thinking about anything else would be a crime.

They didn’t need to say anything when their touches meant so much more. There was a certain connection that only really stirred when their hands met. Just like most everything about him, Jimin’s hands were small and cute. Taehyung took the time to trace those delicate little palms that had roughened with the labor of many years.

Jimin, on the other hand, busied himself with looking, drinking in a sight he’d seen a thousand times before with the same interest as the very first. Unlike those days, however, he now had the courage to lean in and take what he wanted. He pressed several light kisses on the very edge of Taehyung’s jaw, still testing, still searching for permission.

A kiss in return was all Jimin needed to head for the real prize. Their lips met in pure clumsiness, all the eagerness of youth from Jimin meeting the cooler pace of Taehyung. It was awkward and messy but it was exactly what the both of them needed. Fingers once entwined separated and found hair or hips or the chest.

When they finally separated it felt like ages. Taehyung rolled over to get a glance at the clock- 5:48 AM. Jungkook would definitely be home in less than ten minutes. Jimin stirred behind him.

“It’s my time to leave, huh?”

“It was a nice surprise,” Taehyung said, swallowing his guilt. “I’ll visit you tomorrow.”

Jimin ran a hand through his already messed up hair. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

As much as it pained him, it probably wasn’t a good idea to let Jungkook see such obvious signs of a visitor. After seeing Jimin out the door, Taehyung made sure to straighten up everything, especially the bed. He distracted himself from the guilt with the question: How’d Jimin even get in?

It didn’t take all that long. Key from the landlord, probably. Jimin had visited enough times for the two to have gotten in a conversation or two. The only thing that struck him as odd was how proactive Jimin was. Usually he’d be working a job or taking care of his brother.

While he was thinking he was prepping, brewing up a pot of piping hot coffee. Both for himself and Jungkook, of course. As far as explanations went it wasn’t unreasonable to assume that Red Velvet had a cover meeting with Jimin as well.

They’d last seen each other three days ago- that could’ve been enough time for Joy to approach him. Taehyung poured himself a cup of his fresh brew. Three days was a long time, though. Jimin could’ve just been lonely and decided to visit despite the risk.

Taehyung took his first sip just as the door opened, smiling brightly at his exhausted boyfriend. “Good morning Kookie.”

Jungkook didn’t even answer at first, stepping inside with his eyes closed. Taehyung put down his cup and rushed over to take Jungkook’s briefcase, which was one or two seconds away from crashing onto the floor. Once the briefcase was out of the way, he held Jungkook up, who was also one or two seconds away from crashing onto the floor.

It was only when Taehyung moved him over to the bed that his eyes fluttered open and he responded. “G’morning Taetae.”

Jungkook tried feebly to sit up, but Taehyung gently pushed him back down. Taehyung gave Jungkook one long kiss before tapping him on the forehead. “Go to sleep.”

“Haven’t showered yet.”

“Neither have I.”

Jungkook flailed his hands around before they settled on Taehyung. When they found him, they delivered a few weak hits. “Take a shower. I’m sleeping now.”

Even on the brink of passing out, his boyfriend was so delightfully bossy. Jungkook was recovering so well. A few days after the incident it was like he’d been cowed forever, clinging to Taehyung for dear life. Even the most inconsequential things, literally anything that made him uncomfortable, seemed to trigger him.

The Jungkook he fell in love with was an absolute spitfire, good at literally everything even before he actually tried. When Taehyung struggled with something, Jungkook was always by his side, teaching him to be the very best person he could be. His boyfriend was golden then- and he could still see glimmers of that brilliance.

He just had to work harder to make sure all of that gold came back.

He sat there for a little while, just sighing at life’s decisions. Fate had given him the best prize, a gift of the two most wonderful people possible. At the same time, it had given him the worst situation, a maddening time when he had both in his grasp and yet could not enjoy them together properly.

What would’ve happened had Jimin been a member of Bulletproof the entire time? Maybe then they could’ve had a natural relationship, the three of them linked forever by covert experiences. No jealousy, no lies, just love born out of the heat of the moment between the three of them.

But that wasn’t what fate had given them. And as much as he thought about it, he just couldn’t bear to let either of them go. Yoongi’s voice told him that it was selfishness- and he agreed. But he wanted to be selfish. He wanted to hold both of those stars close to him, no matter the cost.

Tired of thinking, he gave one last kiss to Jungkook and went off to shower. He didn’t bother so much with drying. He’d air dry anyway, he thought to himself as he stepped out with only a towel around his waist. He was tracking water on the floor. Had Jungkook been awake there would have been yelling and a lot of towel in his face, but his Kookie was deep asleep.

He briefly considered texting Yoongi about the coming days as Valentin, but after a few useless minutes of trying to get the wording right on his phone he gave up. Jungkook and Jimin, by virtue of being directly involved, deserved to hear about it first.

With nothing else to do and with coffee still keeping him awake, he turned on the TV. Most of their money went to rent or the recent purchase and maintenance of their convertible, but they had enough to get a decent sized screen with a wide variety of channels.

Whereas Jungkook preferred to use his laptop for media, Taehyung never got over the charm of television sets. There was just something so oddly satisfying about flipping through about a billion channels, seeing a few seconds of a show before deciding that you weren’t interested.

They had everything, from kid’s shows featuring a bakery and corruption, to pastel advertisements for a brand of car called ‘Sappy’, to horror movies featuring kidnappers (which he quickly skipped). He’d very nearly passed over what he thought was a poor courtroom show ripoff when he saw a familiar Canadian doctor. With dawning horror, he knew to stay when he saw the news station logo in the bottom right.

Taehyung gave most news stations a lot of grief, particularly about their written stories. He wouldn’t backtrack on that opinion even now. However, even those fake, truth-twisting networks weren’t dumb enough to alter non-affiliated footage when they showed it.

The words scrolling at the bottom caught him up, a ‘groundbreaking’ reversal where convicts Son Seungwan and Kim Yerim were to be released for judgment under Canadian courts. This was despite the glaring fact that Yeri had never been to Canada, which meant there were more than a few strings being pulled by Red Velvet.

The station cut from the courtroom to grainy footage, shaking in time with its vehicle. Taehyung chewed the inside of his cheek as the newscaster purposefully drummed up excitement. “The footage you are seeing now was taken from the dashboard camera of one of the escort vehicles.”

It was a normal view of Seoul streets at night, that sweet spot where most everyone had gone home but there were still cars roaming about. There was meaningless chatter from both the footage and the newsreporter that Taehyung easily tuned out. He sat perched on the edge of his seat, needing to know what actually happened.

Things took a turn for the worse when the cars pulled out onto the highway. What should’ve been a straight shot was interrupted by countless people wearing dark cloaks and more disturbingly, masks made to look like rabbits. They formed a blockade of humans across the entire highway, doing nothing even as police officers told them to disperse.

The footage captured only a split second after that, but it was clear what happened. The masked people pulled out weapons and fired. Then the footage cut.

The harebrained news network was now interviewing paranormal experts, as if they knew anything. Yeri and Wendy’s transportation was only direct confirmation. Even if he didn’t know about the transport, he would’ve known it was Red Velvet. Only Red Velvet would organize such a blatant display of criminal activity and hide it behind a thin curtain of occultism. He couldn’t say for the rest of the members, but Irene didn’t strike him as the type to do traditional magic.

She called her logical deduction the true magic, after all.

When it was clear that the network wouldn’t give him anything more, he realized that there was one loose end. Irene could’ve easily orchestrated it not only to free her girls but to tie that loose end permanently.

He grabbed his phone, skipping straight to the dialing pad. His fingers flew over the numbers and at last it started to ring. Each ring without an answer spiked his anxiety until he was pacing the room. After the third or fourth ring, though, he sighed with relief.

“I was eating breakfast. What is it, Taetae?” Seokjin answered.

Oh, thank whatever allowed Seokjin to escape having to escort those maniacs. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“…Thanks?” There was a bit of a cough. “Uh, are you okay?”

“Didn’t you see what just happened?”

“No? Unless you mean some of the recruits came in late today. As their senior superintendent it’s clear I need to take a more hands-on approach-”

“Yeri and Wendy were being transferred from their prison. Their escorts were attacked.”

“WHAT!?” He heard the clatter of the phone as Seokjin dropped it suddenly. There were heavy footfalls, gradually lightening. Taehyung sat with nothing to go on aside from the occasional yell off in the distance. He’d already theorized that Irene may have played a part in this. But… did she do the opposite? Did she make sure Seokjin didn’t participate because she recognized him?

“Sorry about that.” Seokjin’s voice was decidedly grimmer than before. “Turns out our comms went down earlier. Maybe one or two hours ago? Nobody noticed until now.”

“Whatever you do, don’t get involved.” Irene was such a mystery that people were better off not assuming anything. At the very least, Taehyung knew one thing about her. If she protected someone, it was unlikely she’d do it again. Especially not to a cop who stuck their nose too far into Red Velvet’s business.

“I had no intention to. Any news on… _them_? Did they contact you at all?”

He took one look at his boyfriend. Jungkook shook slightly as he dreamed, whether from physical exertion or some night troubles Taehyung did not know. The one thing he knew, however, was that the hotel would help. As much as he wanted to let Seokjin know, his friend was far too by-the-books to ever understand.


	4. Chapter 4

Taehyung had the nasty habit of resting his eyes for a few seconds and finding himself six or seven hours later. The sappy drama he’d been watching was _so_ interesting, he had to close his eyes to listen better. It wasn’t playing anymore, at least. The TV was off.

He emerged from under the blanket, smiling when he saw a mug sitting out on the table. It wasn’t his- he’d finished his cup earlier, but hey, if it wasn’t in Kookie’s hands he clearly didn’t want it! He reached over, letting out a small ‘ooh’ as ice clinked in the cold mug.

“You _know_ it’s mine.” Jungkook’s unimpressed voice echoed behind him.

He felt his grip loosen out of sheer surprise, but he was just steady enough to keep it in his hands. Smashed cups and coffee-stained sofas were the last thing he, and more importantly Jungkook, wanted. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t drink my coffee.”

A thick novel with crisp pages sat in Jungkook’s hands. The voracious reader himself was seated at the dining table, well more than halfway through the new purchase.

Even though Jungkook refused to look up from his book, Taehyung still put on his best puppy eyes. “You literally aren’t drinking it right now. And considering it’s right in front of me, it’s almost like you wanted me to have it!”

Jungkook paused for a moment before turning a page, as if nothing had happened. Well, it certainly wasn’t a no. Taehyung busied himself with the iced and caffeinated goodness. When it was all gone he crunched the remaining bits of ice noisily.

“Biting ice isn’t good for your teeth. Not to mention the amount of caffeine you drink.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” As Now that the caffeine had given him the extra jolt he needed, the events of the early morning came back to him. He never was one to wait patiently when he could address a problem then and there. “Kookie, I have important news.”

“I’m sure you do. You have important news at least five times a day.”

He regretted crying wolf so many times, but not quite as much as he probably should have. He just liked teasing Jungkook with ‘important news’, which usually ended up being ‘I’m in love with you’ or ‘I’m hungry’ or ‘Your butt looks good in those jeans’.

“It really is important this time!”

“So is your health, and I wanna talk about that more. If you keep drinking so much coffee your headaches will get worse.”

“I think they’re already worse,” He said with a cheeky smile. “Doesn’t your body get used to caffeine anyway?”

“Which makes you need more of it.”

There was a _clink_ as the mug hit the table. Jungkook had barely turned his head when his cheek was peppered with kisses. He rolled his eyes but stood up anyway, stopping Taehyung’s mouth with his hand. “Have you finally sworn off coffee or something?”

Taehyung removed Jungkook’s hand, only letting go after he gave it a kiss. “No, you just reminded me of something I’m really addicted to.”

“Something?” Jungkook said with dry amusement.

“Someone. You get the damn gist.”

Their kiss started off relatively chaste, but as the fires grew between them it grew longer and longer. The need for air eventually broke them apart, but as soon as they caught their breaths they were back on each other. It was messy and wild, until it was like the old days where they were wrestling for dominance through their mouths.

For all of Jungkook’s pride and skill, he still had one point of weakness Taehyung exploited over and over. He found it during one of their first moments of passion in the break room of Bulletproof HQ. They were sworn enemies at that point, forced to work together by Namjoon’s order. The mere sight of Jungkook’s face was enough to set him off. The fact that someone so beautiful could be so infuriating drove him insane.

They were arguing about their latest project when it snowballed into a barrage of insults from both sides. When Jungkook stomped up to him, he just wanted that little brat to _shut the fuck up_. He moved without thinking- all of a sudden, he had Jungkook pinned against the wall, mouths entwined in a new battle for dominance.

It was over when Taehyung got closer, pressing his lower body forward just to get more leverage into the kiss. Jungkook shuddered and practically melted into his arms. Taehyung’s pride swelled and he planned to use it as an instant shut-down to any argument from then on. It ended fairly quickly when Jungkook took to nibbling his ear, which evened out the playing field again.

Of course, in those times they used arguments as a veil for their desperate want for each other. Now they didn’t hide it at all.

Taehyung moved his hand to the small of Jungkook’s back and pulled. As predicted, his boyfriend shuddered and looked at him with half-lidded eyes. The bed called to him, but the entire reason he did this was to open Jungkook up to conversation. As much as he really, _really_ wanted to make Jungkook scream his name for the neighbors to hear, he had important news to give.

“Ready to listen now, Kookie?”

“Asshole.” Jungkook whined and bit his lip, but soon enough nodded.

Taehyung led Jungkook over to the sofa, letting the energy lingering from their kiss dissipate a little. He put on every bit of seriousness he had and held Jungkook’s hands.

“It’s about Red Velvet.”

Jungkook pressed down hard on Taehyung’s fingers, one of the many signs that he was uncomfortable. After a few painful seconds of pressing, his grip relaxed and he nodded again. “What happened this time?”

“I’m going to be picking up another identity. Don’t know what Irene gets out of this, but it’ll get me near Joy.”

Years of scouting out illegal operations hardened Jungkook’s view of most things considerably. Sometimes the law simply didn’t work in the favor of the people. The concept of law was ancient. Only slightly younger was vigilantism, which hounded at law’s footsteps. Jungkook wasn’t opposed to the legality aspect- it was the ethical.

“If you’re going to become a monster doing this I’ll throw you in one of Seokjin’s cells.” Jungkook said with a distinct air of sadness but sureness. “You understand, right?”

As much as he wanted to say it was ridiculous, it wasn’t unreasonable. Power and wealth were intoxicating, to the point where it had even taken root in their very government. The road to hell was paved with good intentions. The darkness of men’s hearts was always present. Red Velvet and other criminal groups were only catalysts, making use of that weakness for their own gain.

What would happen if he fell to that lure? Irene had as many connections as the stars, many of which she could discard at a moment’s notice. It was all too reasonable she would employ him as an enforcer; a convenient tool to cut off connections that were too troublesome.

And the scariest part was that all she needed to do was offer protection.

Irene knew his greatest weakness well. She created it, after all. His drive to protect Jimin and Jungkook was such that even now the imaginary offer sounded tempting in his head. If she struck at that one weakness, she could’ve had him as a mere pawn in her grand scheme.

That’s why he was glad Jungkook was asking this question.

“I’m never going to become like them.”

Jungkook breathed a sigh of relief and sunk into the cushions. “So you’re leaving then? How long? Should I send a resignation letter to Yoona?”

“Nah. But I recommend you take a vacation leave. We’re both going to a hotel.”

“Oh yeah? Is this ‘hotel’ an accurate statement, or is this some crummy motel we usually get placed in anyway?”

Thanks to old agreements, Bulletproof had several accommodations available all year round, no questions asked. At some point they were decent rooms, but between the flaking paint, bare mattresses and broken windows, the years had taken their toll. Thanks to that they were known as ‘haunts’- Bulletproof members would only use the rooms for a utility, usually a shower, then sleep in their cars.

The Belbet Hotel was the exact opposite. Having popped up only a year or two prior, it enjoyed meteoric success thanks to high-profile clientele and, Taehyung suspected, lots of backdoor deals. Before the whole Red Velvet mess he’d dug into the suspicious establishment and found involvement from at least five prominent companies who tried to cover their tracks.

He didn’t have enough to go on back then, but now that he knew about it, even the name of the hotel was painfully obvious.

“I wouldn’t be whisking you away if it wasn’t the best of the best.”

“Like you whisk me away to the japchae place every other day?”

“I don’t see the problem here.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes and kissed him again. “And that’s why I love you, you blockhead.”

They went to that very same restaurant for the rest of the afternoon. When the time came, Taehyung dropped Jungkook off at work. He lingered a bit, just to watch Jungkook climb the stairs with the air of a true professional. When Jungkook disappeared past the glass doors, Taehyung considered his options.

His early morning excursion once again took precedence in his mind. He already told Jimin that he’d be coming the next day. A surprise visit at this hour could lead to him intruding on Jimin’s family or otherwise personal time. Then again, Jimin wasn’t exactly subtle about how much he wanted Taehyung to visit.

Taehyung chewed the inside of his cheek. He had to repay Jimin for that surprise visit, right? He sped off to Jimin’s place.

Alarm bells rang as soon as he entered the neighborhood. Jimin’s place was usually deserted, both in housing and in street. A conspicuous black van parked right in front of Jimin’s home was a clear marker of danger. He didn’t bother parking. He just ripped out his keys and rushed to get into the house.

The door flung open just as he had gotten onto the doorstep. His arm took the impact just in time to protect his face, but he soon lowered it to glare. Had it been any other member of Red Velvet, he would’ve knocked out a tooth for daring to visit Jimin again. This time he was forced to lower his fist warily.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

The already unapproachable Irene donned sunglasses and a sunhat, making her usual disinterest in interaction translate to her clothes. Although she was usually swathed in darker colors, her white outfit gave the impression of a millionaire on vacation. “I picked up the collateral.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“I’m picking up Jihyun.”

A simple step to the side was all it took for Irene to turn Taehyung’s ferocity into horror. Behind her was a shape, some kind of white lump that resembled a human being. He shoved Irene aside, dashing in next to what he realized was a body bag.

He grabbed the zipper running down its middle and parted the plastic, revealing Jihyun inside. He could hardly take a breath as he pressed his fingers against Jihyun’s carotid. With his own heart ringing in his ears, he forced himself to wait before going absolutely berserk.

And there it was. The familiar beat came underneath his fingers.

As much as he wanted to get Jihyun some medical attention and search for Jimin, the perpetrator was still standing right there, in the doorway. He sprang up and looked at her accusingly.

“He’s only sedated,” she said simply.

Yeah, well, sedation was tantamount to death or extreme pain around Red Velvet. All throughout the stay at the house, Red Velvet had never actually harmed Jihyun. As far as Taehyung was concerned they were trying to cross that line without him ever knowing.

“This wasn’t part of the deal!” he snarled.

“I never said it was.”

“Then get the fuck out.”

“It wasn’t part of your deal.”

Irene shook her head and made her way over to Jihyun, momentarily shocking Taehyung when she knelt down next to him. The sound of zipping snapped him out- she was only there to collect Jihyun. He reached over to grab her, but before he could even get close, she spoke again.

“I’d recommend checking on your lover first.”

It was at that moment when Taehyung’s heard something. It was extremely faint, muffled, most likely even in another room. But it was there. His eyes landed on the door to the bathroom. There!

He threw one more expletive Irene’s way before he charged into the bathroom, finding Jimin bound and gagged. Jimin let out a muffled scream from behind duct tape when Taehyung first entered, which quickly turned into hurried pleading.

He wanted to stay and comfort Jimin through the trauma, but given Jihyun’s predicament he had to move fast. He heard the crinkling of plastic over Jimin’s panicked grunts. He muttered a constant stream of ‘I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry’ while removing the duct tape, careful not to rip out Jimin’s lips with it.

With his mouth uncovered, Jimin stumbled over his words. “There’s a knife near the sofa!”

Taehyung ran back to the living room. Through the open doorway he saw Irene stuffing Jihyun’s body bag into the back of the van. He gritted his teeth and nearly slipped stopping near the knife, but grabbed it in record time. He bolted through the door just as the engine started.

He pushed his screaming lungs to their absolute limits. He didn’t breathe, he just ran, eyeing the ledge on the back. If he could just get his foot on, he could cling to the back and wrench those goddamn doors open.

The van started moving, but it was still too slow to leave him behind completely. At this point it wasn’t about speed or strength or even intuition. It was just luck. He launched himself with the biggest leap he could muster.

Time slowed to a crawl as the van got closer and closer. His foot made contact with the ledge.

Luck, however, was not on his side.

He slipped and fell back onto the hard asphalt, head exploding in pain once more.

This time it wasn’t just physical. The frustration that had built up over months hadn’t really left him at all. It was just repressed behind that tenuous pact he made with Irene. He knew deep within his heart that Irene would not take a passive stance in securing what she wanted.

He’d all but negotiated a complete safe haven for Jungkook and Jimin, but allowed Jimin’s own flesh and blood to fall right into the hands of his enemy.

He screamed. He screamed until his throat was raw, until his body could no longer keep up with his pain. The dark thoughts were still there, they just… cleared, somehow. Like his mind shut down to protect him. Looking up at the sky in that odd respite, he started laughing. Why was the sky turning red?

He didn’t even care that he barely missed gutting himself with the knife he had. It glinted in the light. If it came down to it, could he really have used it? He told Jungkook he wouldn’t become a monster. But the rage simmered and boiled within him. They took Jihyun.

When Jimin looked down at him with reddened eyes, everything popped back into painful awareness.

“Thanks for trying,” Jimin said softly.

He wanted to say something. Reassure Jimin that everything was okay and that they’d get Jihyun back without a hitch. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t continue lying to himself, thinking that he knew anything about Irene. There was only one thing he could think about. Only one guarantee he could make.

“After everything is said and done, I’ll make sure Irene gets what she deserves.”

Seeing Jimin smile a little bit after that calmed Taehyung down considerably. Jimin offered his hand and helped Taehyung up, but not without a good bit of wincing and holding his stomach. Taehyung noticed and pushed the pain on his head out as best he could. He was… getting far too good at doing that.

“She hurt you.” His jaw tightened again.

“I’ll be fine. Let’s just get back inside.”

Despite Jimin’s assurances, Taehyung still looped an arm around Jimin and supported him as they both hobbled back into Jimin’s house. By the time they dropped onto the couch, the adrenaline had flushed out of their systems. The normal Taehyung would agonize about every little detail, but the one who sat cradling Jimin in his arms knew nothing but defeated peace.

The faint scent of strawberries lingered on Jimin’s hair. His white tee, unlike most of his baggy sweaters, fitted Jimin’s form quite well. He was an interesting mix of muscle and softness, the potential for definition there but not acted upon. He simply didn’t have the time to go to the gym. Taehyung slid one of his hands onto Jimin’s knee, past his shorts.

Jimin shifted to look up at him with those inextinguishable eyes. Even after a beating and having his brother stolen away from them, they still twinkled like stars plucked from the night sky. It amazed Taehyung, whose fire burned brightly at the cost of burning through all of the hope he had.

“We’ll be alright,” Jimin said as he put his head over Taehyung’s heart.

It was effortless. Something that Taehyung couldn’t even bring himself to say spilled out of Jimin’s mouth like a foregone conclusion. “…How do you know?”

“It’s destiny. You were born to save people, Taehyung. You save me every single day I see your face.”

Taehyung gulped audibly. As touching as that sentiment was, it also laid a lot of responsibility on him. Given his inability to keep his one avenue of revenge on Red Velvet in check, he was starting to lose confidence in himself. “I’m not that reliable.”

“That’s why I’m going to help you.”

He raised an eyebrow as Jimin moved to plant a kiss on his cheek. “What… what do you mean?”

“Irene mentioned a hotel. That’s what you were going to talk to me about, right? That’s where you’re going to get your revenge.”

His eyes widened. Not only did Irene let information about the hotel slip, Jimin somehow knew about his plans for revenge? He always knew that Jimin was deceptively perceptive and determined, but not to this point. He’d suspect Red Velvet influence had his brother not been taken away. Still, the question was raised.

“How did you know I wanted revenge?”

“The same reason I know I can help you. You talk in your sleep sometimes. You yell. You mention my name.” Under his breath Jimin added, “And Jungkook’s.” 

Those were probably the times his nightmares were the worst. Usually he escaped them by overworking his body so much that his brain couldn’t even dream. When he made the mistake of going to sleep at a normal hour, his dreams were wrought by images of guns, money, blood splattered over cake.

Jungkook usually woke him up when they got to that point, but around Jimin it was rarer and deeper into the dream than usual.

“Well, you’re right. I’m just… going to give you the details.” Rattling off what he’d been told was easier than trying to conjecture. “We’re going to the Belbet Hotel under new identities. Sometime during this week Irene will be back to collect all three of us.”

It was still something he hadn’t really broached with Jungkook, mostly because he still harbored something of a grudge toward Jimin. However, they could no longer be bound by their time spent in the house. Through machinations of his own doing, he brought them out into danger once more.

But this time would be different.

He was tired of failures, true, but he now had the support of many close to him. It was still a gamble, but the odds were being rigged into his favor by the support he was gathering. Bulletproof was always stronger as a team. It was by snatching away two of them at separate times that gave Red Velvet the opportunity to do what they did.

When Bulletproof gathered all at once, Red Velvet lost on their own territory.

“I know it’s not going to be easy, but nothing ever is.” Taehyung squeezed Jimin’s hand tightly.

“Our destiny is a sad one, but we can still shape it. You’re a savior, after all.”

Alright, Taehyung had let it slide as some sort of flight of whimsy, but he was now genuinely curious as to how deeply Jimin subscribed to this fate and destiny thing. It wasn’t occultism, whose imagery Red Velvet used as a shield. It seemed like genuine belief.

“Why do you… I mean how did you start believing in all of that? Destiny and saviors and whatnot?”

Jimin turned red at the sudden question. “Err, I thought you wouldn’t ask.” He swept an embarrassed hand in his hair before answering. “As a kid I used to play with tarot cards and astrology sets. I had dreams of maybe becoming an astronaut and touching the sky. Really childish stuff, before I got into singing and dancing.”

That explained a lot. Taehyung smiled and scratched his cheek, thinking back to his own past. “To be fair, at least it makes some sense. I kinda wanted to be a knight.”

“A knight? Like… the Western kind? On horses?”

His foam sword was probably still tucked away somewhere in his parents’ house. “Yeah. I was always drawn to Western things for some reason.” Especially Gucci. If he could have one or two or sixteen wardrobes of Gucci he’d be happy. “I liked the idea of saving damsels in distress, I think.”

“Damsels in distress like me?”

“You’re more of a bachelor in a bind.”

They both laughed at that, at least until Jimin winced. Before Taehyung could notice, though, Jimin started kissing him. It eventually devolved into the usual routine of their visits: connect with each other through touch and affection.

At least, that was the plan. When Taehyung’s fingers brushed under Jimin’s tee and caressed his side, Jimin stiffened and instinctively pushed it away. Under all the comfortable chatter Taehyung had forgotten that Jimin was hurt. With a direct reminder in front of him, he had no choice.

“Strip,” He said without thinking. “F-For the injury. Your top only.”

Jimin gave a light chuckle at Taehyung’s embarrassment but stopped when he took off his shirt. He must not have looked at it either, because both of them winced when they saw the spreading circle of red not only on Jimin’s stomach but his right side as well.

Taehyung immediately stood up and directed Jimin into a lying position. When Taehyung left his side to search the fridge for ice, Jimin pouted the entire time, as if staying there would make him feel better than ice. With no ice pack available, Taehyung had to make do with ice cubes from a tray.

He popped them out into a nearby kitchen towel and placed it carefully on Jimin’s stomach. Jimin hissed at the contact but after a little while sank deeper into the couch, clearly feeling better for it.

With nothing much else to do, they continued to talk about inconsequential things. Favorite colors, favorite foods, how japchae was _clearly_ the superior choice to kimchi jjigae- okay, well, the latter was more Taehyung than Jimin, but they still had a good laugh about it until Jimin started hurting and Taehyung had to move the improvised ice pack around.

As enjoyable as the moment was, when the pack was nearly melted, Taehyung had to get back to preparing for the hotel. More specifically, preparing Jungkook for the eventual meetup he would have with Jimin. It was a precarious situation in many ways, but the success of this operation depended on how well they could work together.

To have them squabbling in front of Joy at the party, for example, would be an easily avoided disaster.

“I’m gonna head off now. Take care.” He stroked Jimin’s hair lovingly and stood up, at least until Jimin pulled him back down again.

Jimin gave him one last peck on the lips. “Of course.”


	5. Chapter 5

Diners were fun.

The bigger ones lost a bit of that charm, coming off more as a corporate venture than a nice little hang-out spot. Plus their coffee usually sucked. No, Taehyung and Hoseok were huge fans of the smaller ones that kept close to their roots. Family run establishments where the founder could talk all about their dear grandparents and their dream were definitely good too. However, the kind of spots he and Hoseok favored the most were the quaint little upstarts, where the cheerful youth behind the counter was actually the founder.

That was the reason why, on a blustery Saturday morning, he dragged himself out of bed and invited two others to his favorite non-japchae spot. He really should’ve slept earlier considering he had the idea ages ago, but ruining his eyesight by watching videos in bed was so fun. He literally only went to sleep when Jungkook confiscated his phone and threatened to kick him out onto the sofa.

The memory made him chuckle into the empty air. The other people in the dinerpaid him no mind, too absorbed in the music blasting from their headphones, too busy with their book or simply too dead tired to react. He clutched his mug close to him as he checked and rechecked the time. They would be arriving soon, but if they came in too closely together it’d be less than ideal.

The bells jingled and the cashier gave a hearty if quiet ‘Good morning’. In complete contrast to Taehyung’s ‘I clearly just got out of the bed and didn’t dry my hair properly’ attitude, Jungkook was dressed like he was ready for a brunch at a country club. Not that Taehyung minded, of course. Jungkook always put his best foot forward, even if Taehyung insisted that it was just a small get-together. Besides, Jungkook looked hot like that.

“We literally live together. Why didn’t you just wake me up if all you wanted was some coffee?” Jungkook grumbled as he took a seat next to him.

“It’s not just some coffee. Just… wait a little bit.” His usual cocky attitude faltered. He wasn’t so worried about how Jungkook would react. Their relationship was long enough that he had a good enough idea about what exactly would transpire. His main concern was whether or not he’d be able to survive the inevitable disaster.

The next jingling of bells came in like a final death toll. There was no turning back, not when a sing-songy voice called out “Tae, I got your letter-”

Jungkook’s fist collided with the table, nearly shocking nearby patrons out of their morning routine. “Taehyung. What the hell is _he_ doing here?”

“Kookiekookiekookie calm down, calm doooown.” He rubbed Jungkook’s back hastily, trying to cool down the volcano roaring inside of him before it erupted. “Jimin, come over here. We’re going to have a friendly talk.”

Jimin froze like a deer in the headlights, caught in between Taehyung’s words of encouragement and the glare that Jungkook was trying to kill him with. It took the growing concern on the cashier’s face to force Jimin’s decision, which was to smile uncomfortably and head over.

The table acted as a natural barrier between the dangerously-close-to-fighting boys, but for extra measure Taehyung wrapped an arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. When it was clear that Jungkook wasn’t going to jump across the table to strangle Jimin, Taehyung forced a start to the conversation.

“I’m guessing that any attempt to start this normally is going to fail spectacularly, so please hear me out before we do anything rash. From your reactions I’m sure this is already a loaded topic-”

“I don’t blame you,” Jungkook butted in with deceptive calmness. “You wanted to establish who you’re in a loving relationship with.”

To his credit, Jimin barely withered under those words. His lips quirked down the tiniest bit as he thought. “From what I’ve seen, we have a pretty good thing going on already. I wouldn’t be surprised if Taehyung thought he could do without someone who isn’t constantly speaking over him.”

“That’s because I have a backbone, unlike a certain someone who thought he could sneak around my schedule without me noticing. I mean, what kind of person thinks that a landlord would stay silent about a ‘friend’ who wanted to borrow the keys for a little while?”

“I dunno, the kind that isn’t stuck in the past all the time? I know there’s a lot of novelty in keeping things you’ve been with for a while. I should know, I can’t afford much anyway.” Jimin leaned back in his seat. “Of course, novelty or not, I’m not going to keep something around just because of sentimental value.” Jimin’s normally soft features darkened considerably. “It’s sweet that Taehyung can still see something in you, but broken merchandise should be thrown away.”

“Oh, _you_ want to talk about broken merchandise? At least I made something of myself even before I even met him. As far as I’m concerned, what I’m looking at now is a kid who can’t stand up for himself and thinks that batting his eyelashes will let him ruin a happy relationship!”

Taehyung grimaced at every single word. He was prepared for the worst from the very moment he thought of this confrontation, but not an ounce of preparation let him predict what was going on. He always thought that all of the blame would land squarely on him. He could take it. He could take Jungkook punching him, calling him the worst boyfriend, asking what their relationship was. He could take Jimin asking why he was lead on, why he was visited so often, why Taehyung couldn’t just man the fuck up and say ‘I’m not interested’.

What he couldn’t take were these two ripping each other apart just because of his own mistakes.

It was his own indecision, his own selfishness that was causing these two a world of pain. Yet they wouldn’t turn their sharp words to him, as if he were innocent in all this. It made his skin crawl, made him go back to those times when he was little, where his own mistakes were pinned on another. He was the one who ate too much, so his mother should’ve eaten. He was the one who broke the vase, so that slap should’ve been on him. He left the house, so-

The two’s heated debate was interrupted by a quiet sniffle. Instantly, their eyes landed on Taehyung’s tear-streaked face. For a time, no one knew what to do. Even the cashier who was two seconds away from kicking them out turned away to the brewing machines. Previously nosy neighbors stared out the windows or at the walls. Taehyung couldn’t even put his hands over his face, stuck in his memories and the distressing scent of bitter coffee.

A single nod between the two who were only just fighting signaled a momentary truce. Taehyung flinched at the hand on his shoulder, fight or flight responses kicking in. He mumbled something about going home, trying to squeeze past Jungkook, who used the leverage to pull him into a hug. Taehyung wiggled further in distress, until Jimin reached over to pat him on the back.

“Taetae.” Jungkook whispered into his ear. “We just got a little carried away. Don’t you want to eat? What do you want for breakfast, honey?”

“I could go for something,” Jimin tried to add nonchalantly, although his cracking voice gave away just how worried he was. “Does this place have pajeon?” With an awkward smile, he looked to Jungkook. “Any recommendations?”

“Why don’t you and I look at the menu together?” At Taehyung’s sigh of relief, Jungkook finally let go of the hug, only to cup Taehyung’s face in his hands. “Do you want to take five in the bathroom while I order something meaty for you?”

“Please don’t fight anymore.” When both of them nodded, Taehyung’s tense shoulders finally dropped. “Okay then.” His movements were slowed by his incredibly leached energy, but he nonetheless made his way to the bathroom without further complaint.

The mirror greeted him with no mercy, showing off every disheveled detail that made him look exactly what he felt inside; horrible. His already reddened eyes from lack of sleep were now crimson. His clothes, which looked acceptable in his denial-filled morning, were filled with rumples and other stains that told everyone he wore them before. Even his hair, which he’d allowed to grow wilder than usual for a ‘change of pace’, frayed into an unrecognizable bird’s nest.

He had a bowlcut once. Or twice. Alright, he had it a lot of the time because it was easy to cut and even easier to prepare in the mornings. It didn’t matter that his nickname was ‘coconut’ for a while. It amazed him how such a silly thought about a dumb nickname could offer him comfort where there usually wasn’t. He’d been so warped not only by the house but Jungkook’s disappearance in the first place, to the point where he forgot who he turned to in the beginning. His team. His friends. His _family_.

He splashed his face with water and decided to give Yoongi a quick call.

“Your food will be out shortly.” The cashier Jungkook came to know as Bin smiled before leaning toward them. “Um, if you don’t mind me asking, is everything alright with your friend?”

“Sorry for imposing on your establishment.” Jungkook slipped in a neat apology before answering the question. “We’ll be just fine. Some of our tempers aren't the best, but we simmer down quickly."

“Oh, that’s nice. I knew you weren’t going to be much trouble.” Bin laughed awkwardly, wordlessly admitting that he actually thought they were going to be trouble from the very beginning. “He’s a fairly frequent customer, actually. Always figured that he and that Hobi guy were a nice couple.”

Jimin snorted, not even trying to cover it up with a cute smile afterward. “He isn’t dating whoever that is.”

“Oh? Then is it that angry guy in the beanie? I guess I could see it, but they mostly just argue-”

“I’m dating him,” Jungkook said while Jimin squeaked a “We’re together.”

Bin wisely chose to excuse himself from the conversation, heading into the kitchen under the pretense of checking the food. New customers unaware of what just happened stood innocently behind them in line. Neither was willing to back down from their staring contest, only moving away when they noticed those behind them getting fidgety.

With no shortage of huffing they each made their way back to the table. Jungkook had barely taken a seat when Jimin pushed him to the window with surprising force. Jimin made himself at home on the forcibly vacated seat, answering Jungkook’s raised fist with “We’re not supposed to be fighting.”

“Then mind telling me why you’re sitting where Tae should be?” Jungkook had to remind himself how much he loved Taehyung, how much he didn’t want his boyfriend to worry, and a whole lot of how he couldn’t get away with assault in a crowded diner. Even if Jimin deserved it.

“I’m not saying that we have to be friends. I’m not even saying that we really have to like each other at all.” Jimin made to poke Jungkook’s ribs, only to be intercepted by a sharp slap. He rubbed his hand, wincing. “See that? We can’t do that or Taehyung’s going to freak. If we don’t learn to get along with each other, he might just run away from the both of us.”

For once, Jungkook had to admit the little twerp was right about something. If he was willing to sacrifice his self worth enough to defend someone who most would have kicked to the curb already- he could set aside his differences with a minor annoyance. He loved Taehyung too deeply to ever separate from him. He could even understand how someone as unfamiliar as Jimin could feel the same way. Most relationships (and most people for that matter) didn’t have to endure literal torture.

“This is so fucked up.”

Jimin raised an eyebrow at the sudden comment but shook his head anyway. “That’s not a no! Come on, I’m tired of fighting. You can be handsome inside, too.”

“You’re tired of fighting… So you want to flirt? Are guys in relationships just your type or something? I pegged you as desperate the first time I saw you, but this is a bit much.”

If Jimin could roll his eyes any harder they’d pop out of his head. “If I treat you the same way you treat me, you get angry. If I try to be nice to you, you think I’m lying. If I compliment you, you think I’m automatically flirting with you.”

“You’re not going to believe this, but that’s what me and Taehyung were like before we actually started dating.” He was about to end it there, but he couldn’t miss the opportunity to tease Jimin. It was so easy to do when he had this dumb jealous look plastered all over his face, too. “How about it? Falling for me already?”

“You’re all bark and no bite. Are you like this in bed too or something?” When no answer came, Jimin gasped. Time for a little revenge. “I’m right, aren’t I? You’re a powerb-”

“Finish that word and you’ll regret it.”

“Oh really? Prove it.”

For once, the air was thick with tension other than violence.

“If you’re driving off to some unknown location, hang up and call Jin. I’m not going to save your ass.” Yoongi, cranky as ever, finally answered his call. “I’m trying to take a nap here.”

“It’s not about that, I swear. But this _is_ going to be important, so please hear me out.” His heart pounded in his ears. He’d only just recovered from the confrontation earlier and here he was, starting up another one. Still, he couldn’t think of any better time. If those two couldn’t get along, he’d force them to. “I want someone to join Bulletproof. Not a code. Really, I do.”

An exasperated sigh crackled through the phone speakers. “We’re down a leader, Tae. We can’t add someone to something that doesn’t exactly exist at the moment.”

“Then we elect a new one.”

There was an uncomfortable amount of shuffling coming from Yoongi’s end. Although Taehyung couldn’t actually see it, he hazarded a guess that Yoongi left the cozy confines of his bed to take the conversation seriously. While it was hard to shake Yoongi out of that particular spot, his priorities were always straight.

“Taehyung, I value our friendship, but what the fuck am I supposed to say? We never had an election. Even if we did, what would we base it on? If it’s closeness to Namjoon, then it’s Seokjin. If it’s who joined first, then it’s me and I sure as hell don’t want that responsibility.”

“It doesn’t matter who gets elected, just as long as this person ends up joining.” Taehyung’s eyes darted to and fro, already trying to figure out ways to convince Yoongi to take up the position he literally just said he didn’t want. Then again… “Maybe we can just convince Seokjin to take it up?”

“Are you kidding me? You think he’s going to add a person? He’s going to shut us down.”

Yoongi was painfully right on that end. Although Seokjin could be silly at times, he gave all his heart to Namjoon and the organization he created. Now that Namjoon passed on, if Seokjin had any real say, he’d disband it forever. He’d keep everyone under the watchful eye of the law, even it it was so far corrupted by Red Velvet. As much as he understood Seokjin, Taehyung had long since known that peace stopped being an option when Namjoon’s heart stopped beating.

“Then… then I’ll be the leader.”

“Yeah, no.”

“I’m serious. I don’t need you trying to shut me down.”

“If you want to hear something nice then I can put Hoseok on.” Before Yoongi even finished the sentence his voice grew fainter. He was already handing off the phone when Taehyung’s yells told him to ‘hold the fuck up’. “I’m being completely serious too. If we’re being realistic, Seokjin is going to vote against you no matter what. Jungkook would probably vote for you. But just because I told you I’d help before doesn’t mean I’m just going to let you be leader. You’d better have some strong arguments, otherwise me and Hoseok will vote against you too.”

“So we’re doing this. Tuesday?”

Yoongi let out a long suffering groan. “…Fine. Tuesday. I’m hanging up now.”

_Click._

That was one obstacle out of the way. Only a billion more to go.

When Taehyung returned to see Jimin and Jungkook chatting peacefully, by all means he was happy. However, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he had missed something important despite having an important conversation of his own.

Well, whatever. Breakfast was in front of him, so it didn’t matter what he missed. He needed strength for the upcoming Tuesday.


End file.
